


Birds of a Feather

by Luthienberen



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Minor Violence, Sibling Bonding, Slice of Life, playful banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27269140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: A rook leads Jacob and Evie on a merry dance through the foggy streets of London. After all, birds of a feather flock together...
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Shipoween 2020 - The Halloween Ship Exchange!





	Birds of a Feather

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



**» » »**

The movement of the train was comforting if boring after a while. So Jacob had absconded to visit his Rooks, both the people kind and those of the avian persuasion. Dressed smartly in his top hat with sword cane swinging deceptively idly from his fingers, Jacob strolled through the streets of London, moving past the rising middle-class full of merchants and the growing profession of medical doctors.

Ladies clad in bright showy dresses caught his eye, pleasant distractions given the grey dullness of the day, and he stared appreciatively at them from the corner of his eye. When one or two bolder ones caught his side-eye stare he smirked and winked rakishly. One matron merely raised an eyebrow in amusement, her pretty features bearing her age gracefully. 

_Completely out of my class_ , mused Jacob, _but no harm in a minor flirt._

“Miserable day isn’t it Madam?”

“Indeed, though I daresay a charmer such as yourself is capable of finding trouble no matter the weather.”

Jacob laughed, shocking some overly sedate passers-by. Ignoring them, Jacob knew when he was bested and touching his hat he bid farewell. “A clever lady is always dangerous. I should know - I have a sister! And I shall have you know, I do not merely find trouble, I _seek_ mischief in its den.”

The matron simply shook her head, clearly amused. Stepping past him, she inclined her head slightly and said, “I have no doubt my good sir that you seek adventure and chaos. I would advise seeking it with your sister. Two are better than one.”

He could only laugh at that proclamation! He watched the matron disappear with some regret then continued to his destination to find that his Rooks were mostly out and about, eking out the boorish Blighters from their dens and basically disrupting the lives of the London Templars.

Sighing in annoyance Jacob was jolted by the singular call of the parliament of rooks that had nested in the eaves of a house. The building belonged to the one of the Rooks – a former railway hand. His wife and children founded a lovely warm home, which the birds clearly appreciated.

Jacob was certainly appreciative to see his birds were present, if not his gang.

He loved the rooks. The jet black birds with a splash of white-grey skin at the base of their beaks were clever buggers and faithful to their partners.

Sometimes, when the cold autumn sun shone brightly, their feathers would catch a stray sunbeam and a beautiful blue or bluish-purple sheen would appear, and it made Jacob think of magic and sorcery, though he never shared that fancy with Evie. It would only result in a short period teasing which would be _merciless_ (mind you, he would do the same after all).

Now they were aflutter, calling their youngest to home. One sleek male was sternly overseeing matters.

"Jacob Frye, do you have nothing better to do than stare aimlessly at your gang?"

Startled from his observations Jacob looked to his right to see his twin sister grinning, eyes shining.

"I don't know Evie; do you have nothing better to do than spend time with Henry? You only smile _like that_ after seeing him."

Evie rolled her eyes. "Hilarious brother, but at least the man has class."

Jacob smirked and bumped shoulders with his sister and remarked, "Too good for us then eh?"

"Speak for yourself Jacob. At any rate, I have noticed you also smile a lot recently - has one of the female _human_ Rooks caught your eye?"

“Never fear Evie Frye, I shall never leave you alone.”

“Don’t be silly Jacob Frye,” said Evie exasperatedly, though her voice was laced with affection. “I suppose we will have to find people who can stand us both then, if that is your plan.”

“Naturally!” Jacob swirled his cane with a flair. “Who could survive our circus act without being equally mad?”

“Few,” remarked Evie dryly. 

Jacob however was distracted. His use of the word ‘mad’ fitted one acquaintance in particular. Maxwell Roth. Envisioning the enigmatic man had his stomach fluttering as if a rook had ruffled its feathers and taken flight. 

He wanted to see the man again, because damn was he fun! The wind in their hair as the carriage swayed under them, the exhilaration of dashing past guards and laughter in the cold night as Templars were left fuming in their wake.

Thinking of Roth made it impossible to stay still, so Jacob took the opportunity to walk nearer to his birds, for his sentiment towards Roth would be disapproved of by his sister. At least, for _Roth_ in particular, not that he was male. Unwilling to pursue those thoughts for the moment, Jacob was relieved when Evie questioned what was happening to his birds.

"Your birds are restless. Is there a predator about?”

“Unlikely. I think they sense a change in the weather. Rooks are said to be able to foretell changes in the weather and sense the approach of death. They even escort the souls of virtuous people into heaven.”

Evie’s incredulous stare was pleasing. 

“So you will study legends about birds, but not the Pieces of Eden?”

“Rooks are far more interesting Evie.”

“I _suppose._ ” Evie glanced again at the busy flock and asked curiously, “Is it true then? Can they predict death and fluctuations in the weather?”

“Fancy words sister, but yes. Look!”

Evie started. The temperature was chilly, but as they talked a fog had crept up, coiling like a snake through the streets. Already Jacob could hear nearby homes closing shutters with a bang. If they were too poor for shutters in these slum holdings, the poor were probably dragging and pinning closed their curtains, (or rags that passed for curtains). 

Oblivious to the goings-on of the residents of London, the white fog - tinted a pale grey by the fumes of coal - was beginning to rise above ground, so that shortly the dangerous streets of Whitechapel would be even more perilous.

The lead rook cried again and flew in a graceful arc to the opposite building and gazed at them with interest, shifting from one foot to another.

Suddenly Evie slapped his chest and said, “Come on brother! Let’s outpace this fog.”

Now his sister was talking! Eager to spend time with Evie, Jacob immediately set off, laughing at his sister’s outraged shout.

Then he was scaling the wall of the same building the lead rook was on and the bird took flight. Jacob was aware of his sister joining him and in an instant they were off, laughing and calling to each other.

Across Whitechapel and over crumbling buildings they raced, sometimes descending back onto the street when it was too far to jump. Then they had to dart through an increasingly cloying filthy fog and ghostly figures until one group of misguided Blighters had to fight them.

Brawling with his sister was fun _._ Evie would evade her opponents with a grace a trained dancer would envy while her blade was as swift as a cat’s paw and the bite of her blade just as deadly.

Meanwhile Jacob worked to drive the Blighters wild with frustration as the two Assassins worked in tandem to corral the group of six. Their opponents did not have the opportunity initially to choose which twin to face. Instead they were caught in the whirlwind wake of Jacob and Evie who circled them like wolves.

Running right into the heart of the angry group, Jacob laughed at their alarm. He ducked a fist and brought the burly brute down with a judicious flick of his wrist, blade slicing cleanly through leather and cloth to bite deep into flesh and bone. Blood spurted even as Jacob wrested his blade free and watched as his sister leapt over his fallen prey to stop a woman with a pistol from taking revenge.

Heart pumping, the blood singing in his veins, Jacob coughed over an inadvertent deep inhale. The London fog, spoiled by the coal dust and other toxic poisons of the city, was foul.

One Blighter, seeing his temporary weakness, lunged forward. Jacob side-stepped and succeeded in throwing the chap to his sister, calling with a gasp, “Evie! Here is one for you!”

"Thanks Jacob!"

Evie faced her two with a smirk while Jacob faced his pair.

The man and woman met him in battle. It was exhilarating work in the fog that transformed them all to shades from Hades. Yet concealment was an Assassin’s bread and butter and whilst Jacob preferred a flashier style he was no stranger to deception. In this case, where flourishing fog twisted the city into early night, he was the Master.

He used a mixture of brute strength and quick feet work, until he finally slid his sword from its cane to deal a blow to the man.

A spectre of ebony wings, of a black and white beak and sharp claws emerged from the night, frightening the woman sufficiently to flee...directly into his sister.

"I _like_ your bird Jacob Frye...even if this is proof of no accounting for taste."

"Awww, you break my heart Evie Frye.”

Evie cleaned her blade before retracting it back into her Assassin’s gauntlet. Then, with a sudden smile full of teeth she said cheerfully, “Folklore has been correct twice brother, your bird foretold the transformation in the weather and the deaths of these Blighters.”

“Then I say that we outrace my feathery friend for a glimpse of the heavens.”

Evie pulled up her hood. “A glimpse is fine Jacob, just as long we do not end up as early occupants.”

“Trust me Evie!”

Evie groaned, but without waiting for him dashed off, vanishing like a wraith into the now much thicker fog.

Cautious, but full of the vigour and confidence of youth, Jacob pursued his sister and avian companion. He reached Evie just as she was scaling a charity house and the rook passed them in a whirl of wings and a sharp caw demanding them to move faster.

The siblings obeyed and in perfect fluid tandem they set off once more on their objective to outpace the fog and their new one: to glimpse the skies above.

_Running, jumping and running, scaling a dilapidated building in London’s slum, rising ever higher until at last they scaled a spire of an old church and burst through the fog bank and could gaze upon a shrouded city._

Breathless, Jacob clung to the side of the spire, awed by the sight. The caw of a bird had him glance upwards and he grinned savagely. Yanking off his top hat he gestured dramatically towards the coal grey heavens.

“Look Evie! My rook has beaten us to the prize.”

Evie, holding onto the other side of the spire opposite him, followed his outflung arm and hat to the vision of a solitary rook circling the stormy skies. As they watched the rook cried in his loud sharp voice to them and alighted on the top of the spire. 

“Well brother, he has indeed reached the heavens before us. What is his prize to be?”

“Hmmm, some fancy bedding for his nest and for his flock?”

Evie frowned briefly as she considered his proposal, before meeting his exuberance with a chuckle. “I do believe I can convince Henry to give up a silk sheet if we ask very nicely and _you_ carry out that mission to upset the Templar overseer in the cloth factory on the far side of the city.”

“A deal Evie.”

Evie nodded happily, sighing as she turned to gaze at the rook who cawed in victory, evidently understanding his triumph.

Jacob allowed silence to fall, content to spend a few minutes of uninterpreted peace with his sister.

Whatever their arguments or differences in approach, they would always find their way back together, brother and sister, twins and deadly Assassins. As usual, Evie sensed his mood and guessed his thoughts. She nodded in silent agreement, content to also share this peaceful break in their quest to rid London of the poisonous grip of Grandmaster Crawford Starrick. 

Life was good.

**Author's Note:**

> I looked up information on rooks here:  
> https://www.beautyofbirds.com/rooks.html 
> 
> & here (clip of a rook’s voice):  
> https://www.british-birdsongs.uk/rook/


End file.
